


Seasons of Unrequited Love

by markcohenistrans



Category: Rent (2005), Rent - Larson
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/F, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markcohenistrans/pseuds/markcohenistrans
Summary: Mark Cohen falls in love with his roommate Roger Davis. Mark believes he has a chance with his roommate, until Mimi Marquez comes into Roger's life. The next morning Mark wakes up, only to discover flower petals in his hands and on this bedsheets.





	1. Chapter 1

Mark was getting his camera ready, checking to make sure film was inside, making sure nothing was broken. He hadn't taken time to seriously film something in a while.

He glanced over to Roger, who had picked up his guitar. He hadn't touched it in a year. Roger had just recovered from heroin withdrawal. 

Mark had been helping him out for the 7 months that Roger was in utter pain and misery. Mark would only film when necessary, and the rest of his time was dedicated to Roger.

Mark thought back on the times when Roger would cling onto him like his life depended on it. When he would cry into Mark's shoulder, holding him tightly.

Seeing Roger in pain broke Mark's heart every time. But Roger had also become so attached to Mark. They'd become closer than ever before. In a way, Mark was grateful for that.

Mark's short glance at Roger turned into him staring. Roger had come so far. He looked so much better now. He wasn't in pain, and it made Mark happy.

Mark gazed, taking in all of Roger's features. His messy long blond hair that seemed to frame his face perfectly. His faint stubble. His eyes as he stared down at his guitar.

Mark quickly looked away. His thoughts started racing. What was that? Why was he staring at Roger so much? He wasn't gay, right?

“Hey Mark.”

Mark looked over at Roger. The guitarist had looked up from his guitar and was now looking at Mark. A small smile was on his face. It made Mark melt.

Oh no. Mark might be a bit gay.

“Yeah?” Mark responded.

“When are you gonna start recording?” Roger asked, getting ready to start tuning his guitar, his guitar pick between his index finger and thumb.

Mark glanced over at the clock on the wall. He paused for a second. “Just about... now! December 24th 9pm. Eastern Standard Time-”

\----------------

Mark was putting away his camera, getting ready to leave the loft. “Where are you going?” Roger asked him. He was in a less good mood after getting pissed at Benny.

“Maureen calls.” Mark replied. Maureen had pestered him to help out with some broken equipment. While, he was now sure he was over his feelings for her, Mark needed to go somewhere right now.

Roger was making him feel things. Feel ways he hadn't ever felt about Roger before in the time he'd known him. He needed some time away from the loft to think about it. That's why he'd decided to go help Maureen in the end.

“You're such a sucker.” Roger said and chuckled softly under his breath. It made Mark's heart skip a beat. Roger stared tuning his guitar again.

“I don't suppose you'd like to see her show in the lot tomorrow, or come to dinner?” Mark asked, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Why did he feel so nervous asking this? It should be normal for them to hang out. And Roger hadn't left the loft in half a year.

“Zoom in on my empty wallet.” Was Roger's response.

“Touchè.” Mark said with an awkward chuckle. Why did he feel so nervous in general around Roger. He didn't understand this!

“Take your AZT.” Mark said, pushing the small bottle of pills closer to Roger. “Change your mind. You have to get out of the house.”

Roger looked into Mark's eyes, and Mark swallowed thickly. The eye contact was making him feel things. He didn't like it.

Roger picked up the pill bottle and poured a few into his palm. Mark left the loft as Roger took the pills, washing them down with some water.

Mark closed the door of the loft behind him, stopping for a moment in front of the door. His face was red. He wasn't sure if it was the cold, or whatever Roger was doing to his heart. The feeling felt wonderful and horrible at the same time. It was confusing. He was confused.

Mark let out a long sigh, his breath like smoke in the air. It disappeared into the frosty air. Mark, climbed down the fire escape, down to the street and towards where he assumed Maureen was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My local theater had Roger wear eyeliner for our rendition of Rent. So that's how it's gonna be here too. Roger's just an edgy boy and I love him a lot.

When Mark came back to the loft, there was something different about the way Roger was acting. He was staring off into space, looking like he was daydreaming.

Roger looked conflicted. Confused. Like he was having a hard time accepting something. But he seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in when Mark closed the front door behind him.

“Oh hey.” Roger said, looking over at Mark.

“Hey...” The filmmaker replied. He walked over to Roger, sitting down next to him on the couch. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Mark was a bit surprised. Roger hadn't seemed like he wanted to leave the house today. So something must've happened at the loft, which wasn't common.

“What happened?” Mark said, raising an eyebrow.

Roger chuckled nervously as he ran his fingers through his hair. Mark wished he could do that. Roger's hair looked to soft.

“Well uh... This girl came by, asking me to light her candle. Said her heat was turned off. She's a dancer at this club I go to sometimes. Probably a junkie too, but... There's just something about her Mark.” Roger ranted.

Mark listened, trying to keep the pain he was feeling hidden on the inside. He had a small smile on his face, to hide the hurt.

Roger glanced back up, making eye contact with Mark. “Y'know what I mean?” He asked.

“Of course I do.” Mark mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“Oh, what am I saying?” Roger muttered to himself in frustration. “She's a druggie. I don't need that in my life again...”

But when Mark looked at Roger, he could tell the guitarist didn't mean those words. There's was something about that girl that'd enchanted him.

Mark smiled through the pain he felt, because it was blatantly obvious to him that Roger was starting to develop feelings for this girl.

Mark had accepted while he was out that he'd fallen in love with his roommate. Of course he came home to find out he didn't have a chance with him anymore.

Roger let out a long sigh, his eyes closed. Mark admired Roger's eyelashes. And the eyeliner Roger wore. It wasn't so much today that it was ridiculous. It was just amount of eyeliner for Mark to find it attractive.

“So, what happened at Maureen's.” Roger asked, changing the subject.

“Nothing really.” Mark answered truthfully. Maureen just had a broken speaker she needed fixed. And Mark fixed it. The only thing other than that was him coming to terms with his feelings for Roger.

Mark sighed, wishing he hadn't thought about it. He wished he'd just ignored it. Maybe it wouldn't have gone away, but he wouldn't understand it as much.

“Oh come on. It's Maureen. Something had to happen.” Roger said, leaning forward with a smile on his face.

“Nothing happened. I just fixed some broken equipment.” Mark insisted. But the look Roger was giving him made Mark blush. And that made Roger suspicious.

“Why's your face so red then?” Roger asked, moving even closer to Mark. Roger didn't find it weird.

But Mark was dying on the inside. His thoughts were going a mile a minute. His face was turning redder by the second. But he had to act normal.

“Listen. It really wasn't anything much.” Mark paused, he needed an explanation for his nervousness. “I uh... still feel things for Maureen sometimes. I end up swooning at random things she does. But I'm moving past it.”

It was a lie. Mark had already moved past it. His feelings for Maureen were non-existent at this point. He'd developed these feelings for Roger, and while it didn't make him feel much better, it was some sort of progress.

Roger seemed to believe what Mark said, moving away from Mark and leaning back against the couch. Mark let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't filled with gay panic anymore.

“You'd better move on.” Roger said, laughing softly. “'Cause Maureen sure has.”

“I know. I know. And I will.” Mark said. ‘I already have moved on.’ He thought.

“Hey, how 'bout I make us both some hot chocolate. It's cold as fuck. We can watch a movie or something.” Roger suggested.

Mark nodded, smiling softly. Roger got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen. He opened the door of the refrigerator, taking out a carton of milk. He grabbed cocoa powder from the cabinet as well.

Mark sighed as he sat on the couch. He hugged his legs to his chest, thinking. Why did he have to develop these feelings now? Couldn't it have happened earlier. When he had a chance? It just wasn't fair.

After a little while Roger came back, holding two cups of hot chocolate. He walked over to the couch, handing one of them to Mark.

The cup was warm in his hands. It felt wonderful in the freezing apartment. Mark's heart skipped a beat as Roger sat down next to him. He was awfully close.

Mark felt his face turn red as Roger rested his head on Mark's shoulder. Roger had the remote for the TV in his hand.

The TV didn't work very well, and none of the channels they could afford were any good. But sometimes they could find a movie so bad it was comical.

Roger felt warm. Mark leaned in to Roger. He'd pass it off as trying to stay warm if he asked. But Roger didn't ask. He seemed fine with it.

That night was one of the nights where they found a hilariously dreadful movie. They stayed up for a little longer, drinking their hot chocolate. And making fun of the horrible acting and special effects.

After a while, the movie ended and the cups of hot chocolate were now empty. Roger lifted his arms in the air, yawning as he stretched.

Mark took Roger's empty mug, standing up. He was holding his mug as well. “I'll just wash these real quick before going to sleep.” He said.

“Thanks.” Roger replied sleepily, and he smiled at Mark. A smile that made Mark's stomach flip and made his ears turn red.

Mark smiled back awkwardly before escaping into the kitchen. He washed the mugs and heard Roger go into his room. Once Mark was finished, he dried the mugs and put them away.

Mark went into his own room, lying down in his bed and pulling his covers over him. He sighed, burying his face in his pillow. After a little while, Mark fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing the dialogue on the lyrics from the musical soundtrack. I am taking some liberties and changing it up a bit tho. I'm also just doing whatever the hell I want with the staging.

Mark woke up rather suddenly. He started coughing uncontrollably. He couldn't stop. He covered his mouth with his hands as the coughing fit continued for a few more moments.

Finally it stopped. Mark was a little shaky as he removed his hands from his mouth. His chest burned with pain. He noticed flower petals falling through his fingers and onto his bedsheets. Where did they come from?

This confused Mark. He'd just woken up and he didn't know how to process this. He thought he could vaguely recall that he'd heard of a disease that involved coughing up flowers and flower petals. But he couldn't remember much more than that.

Mark was trembling. He was confused and scared. He couldn't remember details about the disease. But he had this feeling that it wasn't good at all.

Mark brushed the flower petals off his blankets and onto the floor. Flower petals usually had a light-hearted feeling to them. But as he looked at the petals on the floor, they felt ominous. Mark didn't know why.

Mark got up and out of bed. He changed into a new sweater and a new pair of pants. He picked his glasses up of his nightstand, putting them on.

Mark yawned as he walked into the living room. But it felt weird. Like something was in his chest. His lungs. But he paid no attention to it.

Mark stood in the middle of the room for a few moments. He was groggy and tired. And he wasn't thinking very clearly.

He was pulled out of his sleepy daze when Roger came up behind him and ruffled his very light ginger hair. Mark chuckled softly and watched as Roger went to lie on the couch.

Roger was lying across the couch, taking up all of it. Mark gave him an annoyed look. Roger grinned, holding his arms open.

Mark stood there staring in confusion at Roger for a moment. He wasn't actually inviting him to cuddle on the couch, was he?

But Roger seemed to insist. Mark rolled his eyes and a small smile came to his face. He climbed onto the couch and awkwardly laid on top of Roger. Mark tried not to put weight on him and make him uncomfortable. But Mark was scrawny. It wasn't that big of a deal.

Mark rested his head on Roger's chest, listening to the other man's heartbeat. It was slow and steady. Nothing unusual considering he'd just woken up and he was just lounging on the couch.

Mark's heart would probably be racing if Roger listened to it. This closeness and intimacy wasn't something that Roger had been comfortable with before or during his heroin addiction.

Mark couldn't help but wonder what made Roger open up like this. Did April's death make him realize he shouldn't push others away. Did the fact that Mark was always by his side during his withdrawal make him understand he liked being close to others? He didn't know.

But Roger talked casually. Like everything was normal. And Mark listened, but he wasn't really hearing. If Roger could talk so normally like this. Without even a falter or the slightest sign of nervousness. He probably doesn't think of Mark in a romantic way at all.

And even though Mark had come to the same conclusion yesterday, it still hurt to think about. And as he thought about it he felt the sudden urge to cough.

Mark quickly covered his mouth with his hand. He coughed hard. Not quite as much as when he'd woken up, but it left him trembling a bit.

Mark moved his hand away from his mouth slightly and caught the glimpse of some flower petals. He immediately balled his hand into a fist so Roger's couldn't see them.

"Whoa. Are you okay Mark?" Roger asked, suddenly holding onto Mark rather tightly.

"Yeah. It's fine. I'm fine." Mark reassured, keeping his hand in a fist until he could figure out how to inconspicuously dispose of the petals.

Roger paused and looked at Mark for a moment. "Alright..." He said, not wanting to pry. He continued talking. And Mark continued to listen. The sound of Roger's voice was music to his ears, even if he only occasionally actually processed what he was saying.

Roger stopped talking when he heard someone climbing into the loft through the fire escape. Both Roger and Mark sat up to see who it was.

Collins climbed through the window and walked into the loft with a bucket in his hands and a smile on his face.

Mark smiled at him. “Well if it isn't Tom Collins.” He exclaim, getting up off the couch. Roger got up after him, walking over to Collins, being followed by Mark.

Collins grinned at them, handing them the contents of the bucket he was holding. Bustelo coffee, Marlboro cigarettes, a bunch of bananas, and a box of Captain Crunch.

Both Roger and Mark were relieved. Their cabinets had been becoming pretty bare recently. They hadn't bought any food in a while. They could barely afford it. How could Benny expect them to pay an entire year's worth of rent?

Collins walked over to their illegal wood-burning stove. He turned the bucket upside-down and a few pieces of wood fell inside. The fire grew in size and the room grew a little warmer.

“Wow! You're a lifesaver, Collins!” Mark exclaimed from across the loft, putting the food away in their kitchen.

Collins glanced over at Roger, who hadn't said a word since Collins arrived. “Hold your applause.” He said with a small chuckle.

Roger turned to look at Collins. “Oh hi.” He said kind of awkwardly.

“‘Oh hi’ after seven months?” Collins exclaimed, raising an eyebrow and grinning. He grabbed a flask from his back pocket. “This boy could use some Stoli!”

Collins went over to Roger, throwing an arm around his shoulders and handing the flask filled with alcohol to Roger.

Mark joined them from the kitchen, smiling. He'd thrown away the flower petals he'd coughed up while putting away the food.

“So, how's your job at MIT doing?” Roger asked.

“They fired me for this theory I had. But I'll be sharing it to some lazy-ass students at New York University.” Collins explained. “Still haven't left the house?”

“I was waiting for you don't y'know.”

“Well, tonight's the night. Come to the Life Cafè after Maureen's show.”

Roger smiled and rolled his eyes. He and Mark watched as Collins started to overdramatically started to announce someone. Angel Dumott Schunard was her name apparently.

And as soon as Collins had said her name out loud, she climbed in through the window of the fire escape. She stepped inside and twirled into the center of the room.

She wore a red dress with white fluffy trim, zebra leggings, and black high-healed boots. A pair of drumsticks were tucked in belt she wore that matched her leggings.

Angel took some money out of her dress, handing it to Roger. She then went explained how she'd gotten the money in an over the top way that Roger and Mark could tear their eyes away from.

Angel has killed a dog. And was paid $1000 dollars, or possibly a bit more for it. Despite that fact, there was something about her energy, her personality and her smile that just showed she wasn't a bad person.

Far from it really. From what other things she told them she had been living on the street, trying to survive off the money she made from playing a plastic pickle tub as a drum.

She was desperate for money. And opportunities to make so much by doing something pretty simple didn't come up that often.

Angel felt bad for killing the dog, yes. But because she'd done it she was finally able to afford clothes that made her feel comfortable in her own skin. So her guilt was overshadowed by her euphoria.

However, they were all interrupted when Benny came barging into the loft, acting like he owned the place. Well. He did in fact own the place. But he was being an asshole about it.

Benny said that they could start producing films and songs in the building next door. But in exchange, they'd have to make Maureen stop her protest. None of them wanted to do that. They supported Maureen's protest. Benny left.

Collins and Angel invited Mark and Roger to their Life Support meeting. Roger didn't seem very happy with the idea, and he refused. But Angel understood. Roger was going through a lot.

“Mark?” She asked.

“Maureen has more equipment for me to fix. A microphone this time. She'll be using it at the protest so I want to help her out.” Mark explained.

“That's fine.” Angel said, once again being very understanding.

“But um... Maybe I'll stop by later if I have time.” Mark added.

“That'd be wonderful.” Angel remarked before taking Collins' hand in hers and started heading for the door.

“Bye Mark, Roger.” Collins called out to them, giving them a wave before he followed behind Angel, out the door.

Mark waved goodbye, even though the door had already closed behind the two of them. He went into his room, grabbing his bag, which had his camera and a few tools he'd used to fix Maureen's equipment.

Mark walked back into the living room, glancing over at Roger, who was now sitting on his amp and playing guitar. He was playing Muzetta's Waltz over and over. That's something he liked to do when he was sulking.

Mark sighed sadly. He understood why Roger was upset, he'd been through so much. But he seemed to have been enjoying himself last night and this morning. He guessed it was just a passing feeling. Roger was back to being depressed now.

“I'll be back later Roger.” Mark said, placing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. Roger nodded faintly in acknowledgement. “Don't forget to take your AZT.” He added before he left the loft, locking the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Mark stepped inside Maureen's studio. He let out a breath of relief. The building might not have been the warmest place. But it sure as hell wasn't as freezing cold as outside or in the loft.

“Mark?” A voice came from across the room. Joanne stood on Maureen's stage, desperately trying to get one of the microphones to work.

Mark responded with an awkward, “Hi.” Joanne's look of confusion shifted to one of annoyance.

“I told her not to call you.” She muttered. Joanne clearly hadn't expected Mark to come and help with the broken mic.

“That's Maureen. But, can I help since I'm here?” Mark asked. He might as well stay. It was actually kind of warm in here. And Roger might need some time alone in the loft.

“I hired an engineer.” Joanne said. Of course. She was obviously struggling with the repairing of this equipment. So if she didn't expect Mark to come help, she must've hired a professional.

“Great!” Mark tried to act like he wasn't dying from embarrassment. Be turned to the door. “Well, it's nice to have-”

“Wait!” Joanne interrupted him as he was about to leave. Mark turned to look at her, confused. “She's three hours late...”

Mark stepped away from the door, guessing she was reluctantly asking for his help. Even if she wasn't willing to actually say it.

Mark marched over to the stage. He inspected the microphone and the speaker it was plugged into. Along with the wires and chords that were just an absolute mess.

Joanne began to explain the problems that were happening with the mic. But as they talked, the conversation slowly changed to them talking about their experiences with Maureen.

Mark was starting to worry for Joanne. After all, his time dating Maureen wasn't exactly pleasant. She had trouble being faithful.

Maureen would always flirt with other men and occasionally with women. She'd promise she'd do better and Mark would believe her. Only for her to turn around and do something worse.

Who knows, Maureen might actually get better for Joanne. But Mark started thinking that was less and less likely the more Joanne started relating to his experiences.

But he kept talking about Maureen, because at least it was distracting him from his feelings for Roger. But occasionally Mark just couldn't help but think of him. And every time he thought of him, he started coughing.

Joanne noticed when Mark coughed into his hands. She asked if he was alright, if he needed water or something. She couldn't help it. She had always been the mom friend.

But when Mark assured her that it was just a cold, and that she was fine, she back off. And while Joanne started sharing something new about Maureen or just wasn't looking, Mark managed to throw the flower petals he'd coughed up while coughing onto the floor.

He didn't know what else to do with them. Maureen was over the top and eccentric. Joanne would probably assume it was because of her.

It probably wouldn't be too hard to believe that Maureen had gotten flower petals everywhere while choreographing whatever she was doing for her protest. Though Mark had heard rumors it had something to do with cows.

Mark and Joanne continued to talk. Mark went back to working on the microphone. Joanne was become increasingly anxious about her relationship with Maureen.

Mark felt bad. But he didn't know what else to talk about. And he needed to keep his mind off Roger.

“You seem like you've moved on from Maureen...” Joanne mumbled. “How'd you do it? I might need to know.”

Mark paused. Should he answer truthfully? Or come up with some bullshit that may or may not help Joanne out. After a few moments of silence, he answered.

“I fell in love with someone else. It's not like it's much better though.” Mark said.

“What do you mean?” Joanne, seeming a bit worried for Mark. There was something about Mark that brought out her motherly instincts.

Mark chuckled nervously, and smiled awkwardly. He avoided eye contact, staring at the chords and wires he was trying to fix. “We're just friends. We'll never be anything else.”

Joanne placed a hand on his shoulder. Mark was trying to act like he was fine with it. Like he was perfectly content with the situation. But he realized, his hands were trembling. He was shaking.

Mark inhaled sharply, trying desperately to contain his emotions. No, he couldn't be weak in front of anyone. Especially someone he'd just met. He balled his hands into trembling fist. He tensed up, trying so hard to hold it all in. To not fall apart.

Mark's eyes started to water. No! Not right now! He willed the tears to go back into his eyes. But there was nothing he could do. Before he knew it, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks. Mark choked back a quiet sob.

Joanne wrapped her arms around Mark's shoulders. She pulled him close to comfort him, and Mark melted into her embrace. He finally let go and started sobbing onto her shoulder.

Mark had hardly even done this with anyone. He didn't like showing his emotions. Even with his close friends. But he'd been bottling up these feelings for the last few days.

The stinging feeling in his heart when Roger talked about that girl who'd barged into the loft and left with Roger's affections. The constant thoughts of ‘Why couldn't he have fallen for me instead!?’

“Shh... It's okay...” Joanne comforted Mark. She ran her fingers through his light ginger hair. She was very serious all the time. But also very motherly.

Joanne decided not to pry and ask who it was that Mark had fallen for. Because just talking about it vaguely was difficult for him.

Mark felt a coughing fit coming on. Oh god, not now! Mark was literally choking on sobs now. Flower petals coming up his trachea. His throat burned with pain.

Mark couldn't keep the flower petals from coming up. But he refused to let them leave his mouth. He slowly swallowed the flower petals. It felt awful. It was disgusting. He hated every second of it. But he didn't want to make Joanne worry about him even more.

Mark went through this process several times as he cried shamelessly into Joanne's arms. Was it safe to swallow flower petals. He might make himself throw up later just to be safe.

Eventually Mark stopped crying. He stopped coughing up petals. He was just trembling against Joanne. He slowly sat up on his own, awkwardly pulling away from her.

“I-I'm sorry...” Mark apologized in a voice so faint Joanne could hardly hear him.

“No, it's okay.” Joanne assured him. “You came to fix the microphone for free... The least I could do is comfort you..."

“Alright then... Thanks...”

Joanne smiled, ruffling his hair and stood up. “You can come over any time you need to talk to someone." She told him.

Joanne had planned on befriending Maureen's ex-boyfriend. She hadn't even planned on ever talking to him. But now that she'd met him she understood why Maureen adored him even after their breakup. Why she was so over-protective of him.

Mark was the human embodiment of a puppy. All you needed to do to figure that out was look into his bright blue eyes for just a moment. Mark's unintentionally constant puppy-dog eyes would instantly make you want to take him home and protect him with your life.

Mark nodded in response to Joanne's statement. He paused for a moment, focusing on fixing the microphone again. And after a few more minutes his eyes lit up in triumph.

“Try the mic!” He exclaimed.

Joanne walked up to the mic, glad to see Mark in a better mood now. Joanne gently grabbed the microphones and sang a few words into it. It was working again. Finally!

“Patched!” Mark said happily, standing up and starting to gather his stuff together.

He paused for a moment. A small smile came to his face. “Y'know what...? I feel great now!”

Joanne smiled. She decided not to mention how lousy talking about her relationship with Maureen had made her feel. But she'd probably get over it the next time Maureen walked through the door in one of her outfits that made her look both ridiculous and gorgeous at the same time.

“Good for you.” She said.

Mark and Joanne said goodbye to each other before the filmmaker headed out the door. Joanne sighed. At least she'd made Mark feel better. She felt a strange sense of motherly pride.

But Joanne pride shifted to confusion when she saw flower petals on the floor. She walked over and picked one up. It was real. And it was fresh. Where the hell had it come from?

Joanne didn't remember there being flower petals on the floor earlier. But she couldn't think of many ways they could've gotten there. She came to the conclusion Mark had expected her to.

It must've been Maureen's doing. Joanne sighed in annoyance as he went to go grab a broom to clean up the petals. Her girlfriend was such a pain in the ass sometimes.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark stuck his hands in his pockets as we walked down the street, awkwardly pushing passed the crowd of people. 

It was a situation that would usually give him a panic attack. But the streets of Alphabet City were always this crowded. And Mark went out to film in the City every day. He was used to it by now.

Mark navigated his way through the streets, eventually finding himself outside of a building that didn't seem to be touched by the crowds. You could see the people purposefully avoiding it.

It made sense though. It held a life support meeting for people with AIDS, which had been spreading lately. And people were terrified of getting it. Although it was practically impossible to contract the virus just with a short encounter with someone infected with AIDS or HIV.

The only way Mark could think of it possibly happening was if they both had an open cut. And those cuts just happened to make contact. The blood touching.

But still, the crowds avoided anything related to AIDS like the plague. And while their fear was understandable. It was based in ignorance, which was never good.

Mark quietly made his way inside the building, seeing the life support meeting already in progress on the other side of the room. They were all saying their names.

The leader of the group, Paul, finally introduced himself. The meeting officially begun. Mark tried to discretely take out his camera and start filming. But some things fell out of his bag, making noise and drawing attention to himself.

Mark silently wished he'd died in his sleep last night. He'd felt so incredibly anxious and awkward today. All on top of his feelings for Roger making him absolutely miserable.

“And you are?” Paul asked him. Mark hesitantly turned towards the support group. All eyes were on him. He once again silently wished he were dead.

Mark awkwardly stumbled over his words, trying to explain himself. He felt like he didn't belong here. The people in this group were dying of AIDS and this was there time to get support. Did he have the right to be here? Should he just leave?

Mark paused and made eye contact with Angel. She gave him a comforting and reassuring smile. Mark felt himself calm down just a little bit.

“Mark, Mark...” He inhaled slowly to relax himself. “I'm... Mark.”

“Well, this is quite an operation...” Mark added awkwardly.

“Sit down Mark. We'll continue the affirmation.” Paul said in a calming voice. Mark paused and looked around. It didn't seem like anyone was judging him. Be was welcome.

This was a huge relief. Mark smiled faintly, awkwardly. Mark held up his camera and started recording. They started singing about forgetting regret. Everyone seemed to know the song by heart. Mark guessed it was something they sung every time they met here.

Suddenly, one of the attendees - Gordon - spoke up. “Excuse me Paul. I'm having a problem with this... This credo. My T cells are low. I regret that news, okay?”

Paul replied to Gordon in his usual calm voice. Switching the topic to how Gordon felt. And as their conversation continued Gordon calmed down. He was scared. Why wouldn't he be? He had AIDS. It was a death sentence.

But Gordon admitted he was trying to open up more to things he didn't understand. He was usually logical and used that to get through his problems. But there was no logical way to reverse his AIDS diagnosis. And logic was cast aside when he'd lived so much longer than AIDS would usually allow a person to live. 

Mark circled around the group and continued to film as they started to sing a new song. The same three phrases over and over.

“Will I lose my dignity?”

“Will someone care?”

“Will I wake tomorrow, from this nightmare?”

Those same questions repeated over and over. With different people singing the words at different times, the words overlapping. Eventually Mark lowered his camera and joined in singing as he filmed.

Sure. He didn't have AIDS, but obviously something was going on. Coughing up flower petals wasn't normal. Something was wrong with him. And he felt the dread that it might prove to be deadly.

Mark lifted his camera to his face again. He sung along and focused on what was happening around him, to escape his own thoughts and problems. To disconnect.

No one reacted as the doors of the building opened and shut. Someone walked towards the life support meeting. But Mark's eyes widened a bit as he recognized who the person was, looking through his camera lenses.

Mark lowered his camera once again and smiled as he saw Roger joining the circle of people. He stood between Angel and Collins. The tall black man beside him swung an arm around his shoulders and smiled.

Soon the song ended and the meeting resumed. Paul asked Roger for his name and asked him to introduce himself. Roger did.

Paul asked other members what things had been going on in their lives. And soon it was Pam's turn to share. She sighed and let out a shaky breath.

“Well, I guess I should start off with that... It's not just AIDS that I'm suffering with...” She said.

“What do you mean?” Paul asked her.

“I... have this condition. It's called Hanahaki Disease.” Pam said and as soon as she finished her sentence she started coughing violently.

Pam covered her mouth with her hands. And when she finally finished coughing, she pulled her shaking hands away. Mark barely contained a gasp when he saw bright purple flowers in her hands, crushed, buy intact.

“It... happens when your love for someone isn't returned. I met this girl a little over a year ago. And about 8 months ago I fell in love, and I started coughing up flower petals..” She explained.

Mark focussed his camera on Pam. What she was saying sounded exactly like what was happening to him. He needed to know more. He needed to watch back this footage later.

“What else happens?” Paul asked, prompting her to explain further. And Mark was so glad he wouldn't have to ask himself.

“Well it's starts off with just flower petals. And a mild amount of pain. And over time it slowly develops to coughing up whole flowers. And it's so much more painful...”

Pam paused for a moment. “The only cure is either for the love to be returned, or a surgery that's extremely expensive. And neither seem like they'll happen anytime soon for me...”

“What happened if it's not treated?” Someone from the group asked. Mark couldn't tell who. His camera was focussed solely on Pam. And it didn't really matter to him who asked. The only thing that mattered was her answer.

“Well the thing is, flowers start growing in your lungs during the disease. When it's untreated the roots of the flowers fill up your lungs... And it suffocates you...” Pam said solemnly.

Mark's hands started shaking slightly as he held up his camera. He kept the camera in front of his face to hide his expression of pure horror. Was that going to happen to him? Oh god!

“I'm sorry.” Paul said, looking over to her with a sad expression. “But remember, no day but today. Savor every moment you have.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur. Mark couldn't focus on what was happening. He was too afraid. He continued filming, because he didn't know what else to do. But none of the footage was good from that point on. He wasn't focussing on good camera angles and his hands were shaking the camera.

After what seemed like an eternity everyone seemed to be getting up and leaving. Mark slowly lowered his camera and stopped filming. He plastered on a neutral expression and walked over to his bag, putting his camera inside.

Mark suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked over his shoulder to see who it was. And he let out a huge sigh of release to see it was only Roger. Who else did he expect it to be anyway?

“Oh... Hey Roger.” Mark said, his voice shaky.

Roger raised an eyebrow at Mark's jumpiness. Sure, Mark had anxiety. But he usually didn't react like this when Roger tapped him on the shoulder or something.

“You okay?” Roger asked.

Mark nodded and smiled, trying his best to make it not look forced. “I'm fine. Let's go home.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to update this. But I finally found inspiration!

They left the life support building and Mark was hit by the freezing cold air of the New York City streets. That building actually had heat. He'd gotten used to it. Mark shuddered, rubbing his hands together to keep his fingers from freezing off.

"You guys can go home without us." Collins said. Mark turned to see Angel clinging onto Collins' arm.

"Alright." Roger said and paused to look at how lovey-dovey Angel and Collins were being. "Have a fun time. I would say use protection. But that's not really a concern for either of you, is it?" He added, chuckling under his breath.

Collins playfully punched Roger's shoulder. Roger groaned in pain and rubbed the spot Collins had punched. Withdrawal hadn't exactly left Roger very strong. And Collins was surprisingly strong himself.

Mark gently grabbed Roger's wrist. They said goodbye to Angel and Collins and they started heading back to the loft. Mark didn't let go of Roger's wrist as they walked and his heart was racing.

Roger was pouting, still rubbing the sore part on his arm. "That actually hurt... What the fuck...?" He muttered.

Mark rolled his eyes, chuckling softly. "We'll get you some ice or something when we get home."

They continued to walk home. And Roger stood just close enough to Mark to make the filmmaker's heart race. But Mark knew this was just platonic. Because if the feelings he had were returned, he wouldn't be suffering the way he was.

They finally got back to the loft and Mark followed Roger with his eyes as he watched the man go over to the couch and sit down. He felt like his camera. Carefully watching what was in front of him, and capturing the image in his mind to remember.

Even though what Roger was doing wasn't anything special. Mark felt so strange. He hadn't felt his way since he first met Maureen. And even then it wasn't as strong as this. Mark would be able to handle this better if he didn't know for sure that Roger didn't feel the same.

“So, do you actually want to take care of the bruise you got or were you just being overdramatic?” Mark asked, breaking the frozen silence.

Roger sighed, and his breath turned to frost in the air. The freezing temperature of the loft already was making Roger frustrated. “I do.” He said, leaning back against their torn up couch.

Mark walked over to their fridge, pulling out a completely frozen water bottle. The rock hard ice inside the plastic felt like it was burning against his skin. But he was used to the cold at this point. And he felt sort of numb at the moment.

Mark didn't know how to feel. He was so scared. He always thought he was going to be the friend who outlived all the other. Who would watch all the others die of AIDS. And that was awful. But now everything had changed into a completely different, equally terrible fate.

Mark was going to die. And from what he'd heard about it, it was going to be painful. He'd never really been at risk of contracting HIV. So he assumed he'd live a relatively long life.

He didn't have that assurance anymore. In fact, the opposite seem to be more likely. Mark was unbelievably afraid. But somehow at the same time, he felt nothing. And it was an absolutely awful feeling.

Mark inhaled sharply. Wiping away any tears that might start building up in his eyes. But it was too cold for that. He let out a shaky sigh and walked out into the living room as if everything were normal.

“Here, put this one your horrible injury. Poor thing.” Mark said mockingly.

“Shut up.” Roger said, rolling his eyes as the hint of a smile showed on his lips. He watched as Mark sat down next to him on the couch. Roger pressed the frozen water bottle against his bruised shoulder, feeling the cold even through all his layers.

“What happened at the Life Support meeting? You were acting really weird at the end.” Roger asked, looking over Mark suspiciously.

“Nothing happened. I'm fine.” Mark said defensively. Roger gave him a skeptical look and he tensed up a bit. “Its just... y'know... That story from that girl - Pam. At least with AIDS it's contracted through things you do. Shooting heroin. Or having unprotected sex. But with what she has, it's just because the girl she loves doesn't feel the same. It doesn't seem fair...”

“Since when did you get so emotional about what other people are going through?” Roger asked. “I've never seen you so visibly upset.”

“Like I said. It doesn't seem fair. It's not something you can control. And the cure is either expensive as hell or also out of your control.” Mark defended himself further.

“Mark. Is there something you're not telling me?” Roger asked, leaning in closer again.

Mark's breath hitched and he tensed up even more. His face was already red from the cold temperature. So he just had to worry about calming his nerves and giving a believable answer. Mark inhaled slowly before he exhaled steadily.

“It's not me... I swear. It'd just... When I was little, someone I was close to had that condition... They died. Today just brought those memories up.” Mark lied. He hoped that Roger believed him.

Mark watched as Roger's expression slowly softened and he backed away, giving Mark more space. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't-”

“No. It's fine. Don't worry.” Mark replied before Roger could finish his apology. Roger had been doing that more. Apologizing, being more sympathetic. It was nice.

At this point the bruise Roger had gotten didn't hurt anymore. It was numb because of the cold. He stood up placing the still frozen water bottle on a table. He turned to Mark.

“Maureen has a show tonight. I think I'll go see it.” Roger said.

Mark glanced up at Roger. And he smiled. Roger hadn't left the loft in half a year. But he'd gone to the Life Support meeting today. And now he was going to Maureen's protest.

And this all seemed to be happening because of that girl Roger had met. Who, according to Angel, who knew her, was named Mimi. She'd finally gotten Roger to leave the loft. Something Mark had been trying to do for months now.

'Why couldn't it have been me?' Mark thought. He kept the increasing pain inside. He didn't want Roger to see him like that. Roger had gone through so much more. He didn't deserve his sympathy.

But Mark couldn't help but wish Roger had fallen in love with him? Wake up one day, and realize he saw Mark a completely new way than before. Then Mark wouldn't be threatened with death. Then maybe Mark could find just a little bit of happiness to cling onto.

But that wasn't how it was. Roger had fallen for Mimi. And there's nothing he could do.

“I'm glad you're finally getting out of the loft.” Mark said as he stood up from the couch and walked over to Roger's side. “Let's go do something until it's time for the show.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm actually writing productively. Probably going to disappear for a few weeks again after I finish the next chapter tho.

Mark and Roger left the loft again, down to the city streets. It'd been a long time since Mark and Roger had left the loft together. They spent time together all the time, but never left the loft.

With both Benny's and Collins' absence for the last seven months, and Roger's refusal to leave the loft. All they really and was each other's company. Maybe that's what had made Roger so casual with Mark to the point where he'd do things that made Mark's heart rate double, but not have any second thoughts about any of it.

At this point, the two of them were so close, they had one of those friendships that made people question whether or not they were dating. Even Collins seemed to have his suspicions. He'd made a few comments on their way home from the Life Support meeting.

Collins wasn't exactly subtle when he mentioned just how much more physically affectionate the two of them were compared to when he last saw them about seven months ago. 

It was true. Collins pointed out how surprisingly sweet and gentle Roger seemed to act towards Mark now. It hadn't just been heroin that had brought on the ex-rockstar's anger issues. They'd all known that Roger had a short fuse from the moment they all first met him.

Before, Roger never seemed to hesitate to express his unsugarcoated opinions on things. No matter how harsh those opinions were. He was always bitter and sarcastic. And while he was still sarcastic now. It seemed much more playful than before.

And along with the change in the way Roger was acting. Collins wasn't ashamed to bring up that he definitely noticed that Roger and Mark had been cuddling on the couch before he'd come into the apartment.

Mark visibly turned redder when Collins brought up that fact. He didn't even try to speak, to defend himself. He knew he'd just end up stuttering and stumbling over his words. And that'd just make Collins more suspicious.

And Roger, who had been listening to Collins that whole time only laughed. He casually explained away Collins observations. Saying that it was cold in the loft, and cuddling was a good way to stay warm.

Roger finished by saying: “You know I could never think of Mark that way.” And Mark had to hide the pain he felt. Those words stung, because Mark knew Roger meant them.

Even thinking about those things now pained Mark. Actual, physical pain. His chest started to burn and he knew another coughing fit was coming on. He quickly covered his mouth and started coughing.

Roger stopped walking and placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. He looked at him, concern apparent on his face. Mark wad left trembling. He concealed the flower petals in his hands as Roger asked him if he was alright.

Mark assured him that he was. That he just had a cold. He'd be fine. Roger hesitated. He looked at Mark for a few moments. His eyebrows furrowed and he was clearly frustrated.

Roger felt like there was something Mark wasn't telling him. But there didn't seem to be any point in trying to get Mark to admit anything while they were out here in public.

Roger sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Alright...” He mumbled. They continued walking and Mark just threw the flower petals onto the ground without Roger noticing.

Mark thought of how to change the subject. How to make Roger forget this situation and hopefully get out of Roger interrogating him later about what was going on.

“So... that girl that came to the loft, asking you to light her candle. Mimi... right? Have you seen her since?” Mark asked.

Roger tensed up a bit. His shoulders tightening as he clutched onto the sleeves of his leather jacket. “Actually, yeah... After you left, she came back to the loft.” He said.

Mark's eyes widened a bit. He hadn't expected that. So... Roger had seen her again today. Maybe that was a reason he'd left the loft. Mimi's influence. “I guess she's the reason you left the loft?”

“Maybe? I don't know. She came into the loft, wearing barely enough clothes to cover herself. She came in, trying to seduce me or something?” Roger said. His tone of voice sounded like he was annoyed. Mark stayed, silent, listening closely to what Roger had to say.

“And... I snapped. I got angry and I yelled at her. Made her leave the loft. She's probably not coming back.” Roger continued.

Mark paused and slowly processed what Roger had said. Roger had snapped at Mimi, which would make most people have second thoughts of pursuing someone romantically.

Mark was starting to feel a bit hopeful. Maybe if Mimi stopped pursuing Roger, then he'd have a chance with Roger. “You seemed to like her a lot though.” He commented, not wanting his hopes to get too high.

Roger glared over at Mark. “No.” He said defensively. “She's a druggie. Why would I like her?”

“You said she was sweet.” Mark replied.

Roger rolled his eyes and he scoffed. “Let's go eat. I'll just get fat. The the only vice I have left. I'm going to die anyway. Might as well try and enjoy myself.” He said.

Roger started walking faster over to the closest restaurant. Mark followed after him. Roger definitely seemed to be angered by the idea that he might have feelings for Mimi.

Maybe. Just maybe, he really didn't. Maybe Mark did have a chance of Roger developing feelings for him. Maybe Mark wouldn't die.

The complete and utter dread that Mark had been feeling for seemed to subside. At least a little bit. Mark had hope. And that's really what he needed right now.

Mark really had no control over the situation. Roger didn't know it, but Mark's life was in his hands. Whether or not he fell in love with him could easily decide Mark's fate.

And since Mark himself couldn't really do anything about it, all he could do was hope. Hope that somehow, Roger would love him.

But still, in the pit of Mark's stomach. There was still dread. Because even if he had this newfound hope. He wad still afraid that it was a red herring. And that he was still bound to be taken by this disease.


End file.
